Chapter 2  Before Night Fall

Amara didn't know how long she sat on the cold cellar floor.

Minutes... maybe an hour.

Her tears had dried, but the heaviness in her chest hadn't moved.

She wiped her cheeks with shaking fingers and forced herself to sit up. Her back throbbed, her palms still stung from the chores earlier, but she couldn't stay hidden down here.

If anyone noticed she was missing, it would only get worse.

She pushed herself to her feet and stepped into the narrow hallway... and froze.

A shadow loomed at the top of the stairs.

Sabrina.

Her arms folded, a deep red dress hugging her perfectly, catching the faint light as if it had been made for her. Her hair brushed and shiny, falling in soft waves over one shoulder. Beautiful. Effortlessly so. Everything Amara wasn't.

Amara's hanfu hung on her, torn and worn. Her shoes were thin, barely holding together. Her hair tangled, face streaked from sweat and tears.

Sabrina's gaze pierced her like ice.

"So," Sabrina said slowly, lips curling into a cruel smile, "you're still here."

Amara lowered her gaze, stomach twisting.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Mother says you're leaving tonight." Sabrina stepped down one stair, then another. The soft tap of her boots echoed like a clock counting down. "But until then... you'll be useful."

Amara's stomach tightened.

"W–What do you need?" she asked, voice barely audible.

"Oh, don't pretend you're confused." Sabrina stopped at the last step, standing close enough for Amara to feel the cold radiating from her. "If you're going to eat my family's food for the last time... you'll earn it."

She shoved a heavy metal bucket into Amara's hands. It reeked of old ash and soot.

"Start with this," Sabrina said, smooth and mocking.

Amara blinked.

"The furnace room...? But that's-"

"Filthy?" Sabrina interrupted with a cold laugh. "Perfect for you."

The bucket's weight dragged at her arms, making them tremble.

"And when you finish that," Sabrina added, turning slightly, "scrub the entire east corridor. Every tile. Mother wants the floors spotless for the evening visitors."

Amara's hands clenched around the handle.

"But the east corridor is-"

"Long?" Sabrina's eyes glinted with amusement. "Exactly."

She brushed past, a faint trace of perfume lingering in her wake.

Amara exhaled shakily, trying to steady herself.

We grew up together... why does she hate me this much?

Sabrina froze mid-step, as if she sensed the thought. She looked back sharply.

"You dare look at me like that?" Her voice cracked like cold glass.

She stepped closer, and Amara flinched instinctively.

"Forgive me... please, I didn't mean-" Amara whispered, raising her hands in a trembling shield.

The slap came hard, cutting through the air. Pain exploded across her cheek.

Sabrina smiled afterward. Cold. Satisfied. As if hurting Amara was a pleasure she'd missed.

"You'll never learn humility, will you?"

Amara gasped, staggered backward, the bucket nearly slipping from her shaking hands.

Sabrina turned away, voice dropping to a slow, mocking purr.

"Don't worry. You'll be gone soon enough."

Her footsteps faded into the manor, leaving silence and the crushing weight of the bucket in Amara's arms.

She closed her eyes, swallowing a sob.

"I can't... I can't do this," she whispered.

Her heart pounded-not just from fear, not just from the slap-but from the certainty settling like ice in her bones.

Tonight... she would be taken from the only home she'd ever known.

Even if it had never loved her back.

She lifted the bucket, dragging it across the cold stone floor.

Just get it done... before sundown... Morwen will know if I fail.

She grabbed a brush and began scrubbing.

Her fingers stung, small cuts opening on her palms.

Her knees ached as though they might give out. Vision blurred at the corners.

Hours passed. Sunlight shifted across the stones, turning the cellar a faint gold. Her body screamed at her to collapse, begged her to rest-but she pushed on. Stopping had never been an option.

By the time the sky outside burned orange, Amara could barely stand.

Her dress clung to her from sweat and dust. Arms trembled with every breath. Legs shook as if they weren't hers to command.

She limped back toward the cellar. The manor was quiet-too quiet-just as it always was before something terrible happened.

Her door creaked as she pushed it open. The tiny chamber looked the same, yet tonight it felt different. Like a place she might never see again.

She stood in the center, catching her breath, trying to steady her pounding chest.

What do I take?

She had nothing. Nothing Morwen hadn't taken from her already.

She knelt beside her pallet and pulled out her small cloth bundle. Inside were the only things she owned:

A threadbare dress.

A wooden hairpin she had kept since childhood.

A tiny brass key she didn't remember receiving.

She turned the key in her fingers. A strange pulse ran through her palm, but she didn't know why it mattered.

"Why do I feel like I should know you?" she whispered.

She wouldn't know. Not if she didn't survive Hargrove's estate.

She wrapped the items and tied the cloth shut.

Outside, the sky darkened. Her heart quickened.

It was time.

A soft knock tapped at the doorframe.

Amara froze. Inhaled slowly, trembling and bracing herself.

"Please... not yet."